


Sometimes Love is Not Enough

by LadyVisenya



Category: Logan (2017) - Fandom, Wolverine (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Anyways, F/M, Gen, Hate to Love, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Utter Garbage, back to hate, donald pierce like hes anything other than, everyones a mess, i just want everyone to stop writing, would still fuck tho.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-07 01:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 20,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10349619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVisenya/pseuds/LadyVisenya
Summary: A young mutant makes a deal with the devil. Sells out other mutants for her own freedom and maybe even saves her sister. It all gets more complicated when she starts to fall for Donald Pierce.





	1. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this takes place about eleven or ten years before logan. it might run into the movie's timeline. not sure yet. each chapter either takes place a couple months after or right after the last one. i have a few chapters written so far so updates should be quick.

I held my breathe as I placed my groceries on the checkout counter. I was being tailed. And it was late. And I was just going to have to make a run for my car. 

At least it was just some yogurt and pancake mix. Easy to carry. 

I swallowed as I paid. My sister had gone missing three months ago. And I hadn’t heard from Issac in a couple of days. _Everything's fine._

But it wasn’t because there was another man waiting outside. I don’t know who they were trying to fool. Their black clothes and build made them stand out.  The nameless henchmen straight out of a movie. 

_Breathe. Just Breathe._

I walked to my car, forcing myself not to run. Not to look at them. I did my best to mind my own business even as I let my mind feel for everything around me. And I wasn’t the slightest bit surprised to find out that they were threats. 

But I made it out. I pulled out of the parking lot. My jaw aching as I headed home. 

It was time to move. And fast. 

I threw my things in my backpack. Hands shaking as I checked every nook and cranny for something I might have missed. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. And I wasn’t ready to lose anything else. 

The doorbell rang. 

Shit. Shit. Shit

I could just not answer it. Had they followed me home? How long had they been watching me? 

Playing dumb, I opened the door. “Hi, can I help you with anything?”

“Sweetheart. Let’s not play any games.”

“I’m not sure I follow.” Usually I didn’t mind my mutation. It let me know that he had come alone. It let me know that there were three more men at just the edge of my range. I had a shot. And I was going to take that chance. 

The man smirked as he shoved his way in. “I know you’re a mutant. And I just want to ask you a few questions.”  He took his sunglasses off.

Only assholes wear glasses at night. 

“Now,” he said, standing way too close to me, “what is your mutation? I’d hate to have to ruin that pretty face.”

“Bite me,” I hissed, kicking between his legs and making a run for it. I grabbed my key, and managed to pry the door open when I was thrown to the ground. 

“Fucking mutie,” he growled, using his own weight to keep me down. 

I tried to shove him off, but he held my arms down, crushing my chest. I couldn’t breathe. 

This couldn’t be how I died. In some shitty town, with no one to mourn. 

“Just tell me what your mutation is baby, and maybe I’ll make sure your cell is right by your sister.”

And just like that, the fight went out of me. 

“Where is she,” I cried, vision swimming as they grew wet. 

“I’m not gonna ask again,” he whispered into my ear, “what is your mutation.”

“I can sense people,” I uttered, “sometimes things. And occasionally their intentions. I know theres more men waiting by.”

“A goddamn tracker,” he said, heaving himself up just enough to let me breathe. He grinned down at me, gold glinting even in the porch light. 

“Not really,” I said, “my range is very limited.” I swallowed. “Now where is my sister.”

His eyes twinkled with malice as he spoke, “Now why would I tell you that?” 

“Please.”

He looked around, fearing into the remains of a once dense forest.  I wanted to kill him. I wanted to be a hero, and save my sister and make everything okay somehow. 

But this wasn’t a comic book where the x men appear and save the day. And I most certainly was not an x men. 

I was just me. 

And that wasn’t enough. 

“Help me track down other mutants,” he told me, “and I’ll get your sister back to you. How does that sound sweetheart?”

Like he was going to screw me over once he got what he wanted. But It wasn’t really an offer. He’d find a way to make me either way. And at least this way, I’d get some chance of freeing my sister. 

“Okay.” I nodded. “Okay. . .”

“Oh,” he said, smile all teeth, “where are my manners.” He got off of me, crushing my arm in his grip as he pulled me up with him. “My names Donald. Donald Pierce.” 

I bit back the urge to spit in his face. 

He then pulled me along with him. Even letting me grab my backpack from where it had fallen before taking me back to his men. 

* * *

 

It was obvious that he was in charge. From barking out orders, to the unquestioning obedience with which they swallowed his lies about me. About me selling out another mutant. About being human and nothing more. It felt like denying a part of myself. But I knew I had to let things play out. 

I wasn’t a hero. I had to take care of myself, and hopefully free my sister. 

I took the water bottle he handed me, without meeting his eyes, as he slid into the seat next to me. Handing me a file on someone named Alison Blaire. 

“We know she’s been hiding out in the outskirts of Phoenix, Arizona,” he said, dropping an arm around me. “And now you’re going to lead us to her.” 

I nodded. 

“And don’t you be getting any ideas,” Donald whispered against my ear. “I’ll know, and your sister will pay the price.”

I swallowed. 

“Now get some rest baby,” he said, finally moving back. Finally letting me relax, even if just a little bit. “It’s a long way to Arizona.” 

I’m going to kill you, was all I could think. Maybe to now, but eventually I would. _I’m going to kill you._

I never slept lighter in my life. 

 


	2. Good Intentions

Arizona was hot.

There was so much movement in the city. I could feel the highways filled with cars. And it was overwhelming. I had no idea how I was supposed to find one person, someone I had never met, in this mess. 

I finished the last of the water, and glanced at the donuts I wasn’t offered. 

I bit my lip, watching everyone get out and stretch. It was easy to think of them as people when they were tired, and talking with each other. 

Every slight noise made me jump, even as the beginning of a headache began to form. There was a reason I avoided large cities. 

_Just Breathe._

 

The way the file was written, with words like “female” “suspect” “light refraction”, it was easy to ignore that she was a mutant just like me. I focused on the section on her abilities, and tried to figure out some way to find her. 

It took years of knowing someone for me to recognize them in cities this large, and now I was supposed to find some random mutant. I had too. 

“Transduce’s sonic vibrations.”

That I could work with. Thinking back to my high school science classes, a physics class I had slept through, matter cannot be created or destroyed. And if she had to control the light bursts around her at all times, there should be a null area around her. 

Easy enough. Just find the one place I can’t locate. Can’t sense. 

“Can I get a map,” I called out. 

“What the fuck do you need a map for,” Donald snapped back. 

“Please,” I sighed. 

A map was found, and I unrolled it. Visual representations help. And then, aggressively ignored Pierce’s stare, as I slipped into a maze of auras or energy signatures. I never knew what to call them. 

It was hard too force myself to ignore the men around me, Pierce being the biggest threat. Leaving myself open like that, I took a deep breathe and pictured the map. Pictured myself walking every street and searching for a closed door. 

The pull of activity was hard to ignore. All the people moving from place to place. Their laughter and sadness. The . . .

Opening my eyes I grabbed the map, searching before I lost it. Before I forgot. Monroe St. Highcliff Dr.  6th St. Meadows Circle. 

“Here,” I said, meeting his gaze. He looked less menacing in the daylight. In another time I might have even thought of him as attractive with the straw alone hair and baby blue eyes. But the air of arrogance and contempt ruined it. 

“You better by right baby,” he said, stoking my cheek with the back of his hand. 

“Or else,” I said, knocking his hand away,  “I get it.” I wasn’t risking my sister for some woman I didn’t even know. 

We rolled out, and I focused on the passing cityscape. It felt like hours before we arrived and then-

“You can’t leave me like this.”

He smirked, “stay here,” even as he tightened the cuffs just enough for them to dig into my wrists. 

“Fuck you,” I muttered. 

No one even spared us a glance. Just men following orders. 

As soon as they were out of sight I pulled at the cuffs. I pulled at seat. I cursed myself for not wearing bobbypins. No amount of twisting and turning my limbs into the most uncomfortable positions help. 

At least the asshole had let the front window down. 

“Help,” I yelled. “Someone help me.” 

Fuck suburban moms, out for the day. Shopping at Costco. 

“Help.”

I knew there were some people home. But they were either uncle to hear me, or just didn’t care. It was then the tears came. My back ached. My wrists turned red. Everything was shit. I was at the mercy of some mutant hating psychopath. 

The tears ran out before they came back. Back with a body. Still breathing, I told myself. _But for how long._

They injected her with a suppressant before placing her in the back with a gun to her head. I comforted myself with the bruises and injuries they had received. 

Think of Pippa. Think of-

“Good job sweetheart,” Pierce said, grinning as he tossed me a bag. 

“Un-cuff me you f-“

“Careful baby,” he said, putting his stupid sunglasses on. 

“Please un-cuff me,” I replied through clenched teeth. I rubbed my wrists, and picked up the bag. Donuts.  “I don’t like sprinkles.”

Pierce just patted my thigh. 

I flinched. And to top it off, it was a shitty donut. Too much sugar, not enough cake. Sprinkles were the worst. 

* * *

We took a helicopter down to a complex in Texas. It had to be Texas. Any further south and we would be in Mexico. 

She started to wake up as the men dragged her body to another helicopter. The way her eyes widened in terror. Trying to stand. It was a primal fear and i couldn’t look as she screamed before they knocked her out again. 

Her fear was burned into my memory, as well as the laughter of the men around me. 

I wanted to throw up. 

Sure, people had hated mutants. But on the liberal coast, that was reserved for horror stories of mutant kids being bullied in small towns. In the south. And yet. . .no one really cares about mutants disappearing. 

I closed my eyes, and let Pierce  place his hands on my shoulders. “Let’s get some hotel rooms for the night.”  Which was a stretch. There was no hotels around  here. And the motel was just as shitty as could be expected. 

And Pierce decided to room with me. 

I followed him and stood in silence, ignoring his small talk. 

“Ladies first,” he said, motioning me to the bathroom. There was no door. It was just a niche. And the walls were yellowed with time and grime or both. 

I took the quickest shower of my life, grabbing my things and changing in the shower. And then I stood there. Not wanting to leave. Not wanting to deal with anything. 

“Baby, you better hurry up and get out here,” Pierce snapped. 

I hugged my backpack to me as Pierce continued his friendly charade handing me another bag. This time it was water and pasta. Then pulled my leg up. 

“Hey,” I said, tensing. 

“Precautions baby,” he said slipping an ankle monitor around my leg, “precautions.” Then slapped my thigh, “stay close to me and it won’t matter.” 

“Just don’t be getting any ideas.” Then went off for his own shower. 

I downed the water, picked at the pasta, and claimed the bed before he got out. There was no way I was going to sleep on the floor. And there was no fucking way I was sharing a bed with that murderer. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls let me kno what u guys think.


	3. Cold Comfort

“They’re gone again,” Pena yelled as the men checked the abandoned mall. 

Pierce threw a chair at the wall. I flinched. 

We had been following the same group of mutants for a while now. Every time we got close, they ran off again. It was tiring to always be on the road. I had only slept a few hours in the past week. 

Pierce turned on me, “Have you been keeping something for me?”

I shook my head, “don’t start.” It was the wrong thing to say.

He fumed, and I immediately backed away. 

“They must have a psychic or something,” I stated, backtracking, “how else would they keep one step ahead of us?” 

“Now I don’t want to have to get unpleasant here, but my patience is running out baby. So fucking find them.”

“I can’t track them on the go. It doesn’t work like that. My range isn’t huge and its hard.”

“It’s hard,” he mocked, coming up to me, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. And I knew he was up to nothing good. 

I bite my lip, waiting for the shoe to drop. 

“You look tired,” he said softly, “I think you need a little something to wake you up.” Pierce motioned to one of his men, Kyler. He brought over a small vial of-

My eyes widened. “Please, just give me more time. I know I can-“

“Sh, baby girl,” Pierce said as he yanked my arm, searching for a vein. “It’s just a little sting. That’s all.” 

I tried to pull back, but his hold on me was iron. Everyone knew how dangerous that stuff was. It was poison. It left mutants wrecked. And I could only watch as he injected it in. 

And then- 

Then I was in another world. Everyone was surrounded by a outline of light. I could feel their tension. Their boredom. Pierce was a dull and hazy orange, then bright yellow with glee. I could sense all the towns we had passed. The cows grazing in a nearby ranch. 

Was it nearby?

“The mutants sweetheart,” a voice called out from somewhere, dulled by distance. “Where are the mutants?”

And I told him. They were close, with only an hour or two head start. The mutants were so bright compared to all the humans around. Easy to find. Easy to focus on, even as my mind swam in the currents of-

A gun went off. 

Someone flickered off and dulled. 

The noises were distant and my chest felt heavy. My vision darkened as I returned to myself. As I came down from-

I couldn’t remember but my cheeks were wet. My body felt sore. Reaching out, stumbling from the car, trying to find my bearings. 

I didn’t even make it a step before collapsing from exhaustion. As if the very marrow had been zapped from my bones. Everything was shaking. 

I couldn’t breathe. Everything blurred. _I couldn’t breathe._

There were screams coming from me. From the trees. _Focus._ A car was flipped on its side. A girl was crying even as fire emerged from a man’s hands. More gun shots. 

“Restrain them boys,” a voice called out, “we need them alive.” 

Once more I tried to stand, but my legs buckled under my own weight. _I can’t breathe._

_I can’t breathe._

_I can’t breathe._

Someone picked me up. I knew it was Pierce without opening my eyes. I would know his presence anywhere. The smell of earth and gunpowder. The sharp cold feel of his aura, matching those flat eyes.

“Sh. Sh,” he whispered into my hair. “You’re alright. You’re gonna be okay baby.” 

And then I was gone. 

* * *

Everything hurt as I came too. My hands shaking as I tried to lift them, as I tried to get up, and couldn’t. Someone was crying. There was someone crying. I glanced around and realized it was me when Donald came in, hugging me. 

And I let him. 

‘Sh,” he kept repeating as I curled into him. “It’s over now.”

But it wasn’t. I would have to keep doing this. Hurting others. But I couldn’t make myself push him away. 

It was then that I realized that I couldn’t sense anything. The world was silent. 

He gently stroked my hair as I calmed down. As the tears ran out, and I could finally breathe again without a sharp pain in my heart. Without wanting the whole world to swallow me whole. 

“I have something for you,” he said, untangling himself from me, pushing me with more force than necessary. He handed me a folded up paper, eyes twinkling with anticipation. 

Unfolding it to the desolate eyes of my sister, the air went out of my lungs. I glance up at him, and lunged. 

He just laughed, but his eyes were blank. And it was all wrong as he left, not bothering to shut the door. Leaving me to stare at the picture of my sister, once so full of life, looking like the pictures of people in concentration camps. 

I threw up.

I clutched the picture. The only thing keeping me sane. 

Never forget, I told myself. Hatred hardening into something sharp and cold. 

My heart no longer hurt. 

It burned. 

 


	4. Wishbone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for violence. nothing to bad (to me), but better be safe than sorry. chapter title is taken from a poem from richard siken bc i adore his writing.

It was cold in New York City. And Donald wouldn’t let us stop and enjoy the sights. Not even because it was my first time here. Not that I expected him too. 

“There’s supposed to be one of the last lions left here,” I said, going over the map. 

He smiled in amusement, “just don’t forget what we’re here for.”

“I know,” I rolled my eyes, “but it’s not like you can shoot up a Zoo.” Then, with a glance over at him I added, “no matter how much you’d like to.”

He laughed. 

It was a city of 11 million, I had managed to narrow it down to the Central Park Zoo. A mutant going by the name of Kya Jones was supposed to be here. It was just a matter of finding her here. And then following her to an easy place to-

I didn’t let my thoughts go any farther. 

I dragged him over to the elephant enclosure, waiting for them to come out. “I use to go to the zoo and draw,” I uttered. “It wasn’t close, but my brother never minded driving me out.”

“You have a brother?”

“He’s not a mutant,” I quickly responded. 

“That’s not what I meant.” He shifted besides me as they emerged out. It was sad to think of all the animals that had gone extinct in my life time. And I was not even twenty.

“In ten years people will go see elephants in the natural history museum.” I stared hard at one of the elephants, trunk outstretched. “Do you think they’ll be by the mutant exhibit?”

“We’re wasting time,” he said, grabbing my hand. “We have a job to do.” 

He didn’t let go of my hand, even as I followed him. So I let myself slip further, trusting him not to let me run into someone, and spotted the mutant. 

“By the reptile gift shop,” I said. “I think they’re leaving.” 

He nodded, and relayed the information to his men, no doubt waiting to take the man down. He wouldn’t even know what happened. 

I swallowed. 

“Want to see the last lions,” he said guiding me over to their area. It was crowded, and we couldn't see very well from the bench we sat down at. 

“What’s it like?”

“What,” I said, broken out of my thoughts. 

“How does your mutation work?”

I stared into his face, finding no traces of anticipation or worse. He looked so normal in jeans and a jacket instead of his usual gear. His face softened in the setting sun. I wanted to reach out and stoke his cheek. 

_Snap out of it._

“It’s like. . .everyone is covered by a distinct aura, or some sort of energy. It’s unique and I can see them, or rather feel them,” I broke off. It was hard to put into words. “And I can usually feel their strongest emotions, like if they want to hurt me.”

Donald placed his jacket around my shoulders. I hadn’t even noticed I was shivering. 

“I can always sense it, at the edge of my mind. But if I try, it’s much wider. Maybe ten miles? I don’t know. But it’s lovely to see people. They’re so bright, changing as they do,” I trailed off, realizing how close together we were. 

A breathe away. 

I backed away, focusing on a family, their dog had shoes on. Watching the small glimpses the crowd gave me of the last ion of the zoo. Focusing on anything else. Anything but him. 

_He’s a murderer._

“Let’s go. They should be done by now.”

I followed him out, too cold to give him back his jacket. My sweet sister would have already killed him. 

But then she had always been the stronger of us. 

* * *

The man, Elliot, was still struggling in the back. 

Wrong man, I thought. She got away. 

I let out a breathe, as he looked over at us. 

“I’ll never tell you where my wife is,” he cursed. And he wouldn’t. I knew that in my bones. No more than I could stop. Not with my sister’s freedom on the line. 

“Now,” Donald said, “let’s not say things we don’t mean.” The promise of pain audible in his tone. 

I threw myself at him before I could think twice. 

Enough. Enough of being strung around like a cat chasing a light. 

Donald’s hand stung as he hit my cheek. It stung. He then grabbed hold of my throat, tightening his grip enough for black spots to dance in my eyes. 

“Now honey,” he smiled, “don’t you ever do that again.Don’t you ever forget that you’re just a mutie who would be tied up in a hole somewhere if not for me.” 

I sneered at him, trying to losen his grip. 

“Nod if you understand.” 

I nodded, and he threw me aside. 

“Make her watch,” Donald called out as he pulled out a knife. “I’m sorry for the interruption. She’s usually much more. .behaved. Now where were we Elliot?” 

I couldn’t help but struggle as Pena held me in place. But not to help. I struggled to look away. To look anywhere but at Elliot. 

My jaw hurt form the tension running through me. From my inability to do anything. How was I supposed to help my sister if I couldn’t even help myself. 

This was all a sick joke. 

I’ve been lying to myself, thinking that he would ever make good on his word. 

* * *

When Pierce was done with Elliot, he sent his men out for the mutant again, then promptly shot Elliot.  

He then turned to me. 

“Now why did you have to go on about,” he waved his hand, “Doing that? I’ve been very nice to you baby.”

I wanted to scream at him. Instead I simply said, “You’re never going to let my sister go. And when you’re done with me, you’re going to kill me just like you killed him.” 

“See how much better this is,” Donald said, sitting down in a chair. “Communication is very important.”

My jaw pulsed where it still hurt. 

“Come here,” he motioned, and I did. Dragging my feet as I did.

I stood there, in front of him, refusing to show how much it hurt. 

“We’re done with the mutants. It shouldn’t be hard to slip your sister out in the process of shutting down that division.”

“And then we’re done,” I said. 

“Oh sweetheart, I’m never going to be done with you,” he smiled. “Now let’s get you an ice pack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> should i name them(reader)? so far ive kept it pretty gender neutral as far as i can tell and avoided names but. . .opinions?


	5. Hungry and Hollow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning attempted sexual assault. idk, it stops as soon as "no" is vocalized but still. TW

Only gross men are at grimy bars in the middle of nowhere. Grimy bars next to shitty motels. Nothing more american that that.

I nursed my drink, as I watched everyone slowly get plastered and thought up ways of escaping. Of suddenly becoming amazing at fighting. Of freeing everyone and taking down the big bad. 

But wasn’t I part of that now?

Wasn’t I just as bad?

I took a large sip, hoping to drink myself into oblivion faster, and aggressively ignoring the old man who had been staring at me for the past hour. I hated myself. Pippa would have already called him out. 

At least the bartender, a middle age lady who I bet would make for a great mother figure, kept giving me sympathetic looks.

I hadn’t even tried to hide it. 

But it seemed like Donald was leaving me alone at least.

“Want another one honey,” she asked.

“Please.” 

She poured another vodka cranberry, “he’s not worth it.”

“What?” I glanced over at her. 

She leaned close to, and whispered, “The man you keep staring at. Did he do that to you?”

She handed me the drink, “My husband used to hit me. I know how hard it can be-“

“Oh,” my eyes went wide, darting to where Donald was throwing darts, “no. It’s nothing like that. He’s not. . .we’re not. . .”

“Well,” she smiled, patting my hand, “take care of yourself.”

I wanted the world to split open and swallow me whole. Melting into a puddle wouldn’t be so bad right now. 

I resisted the urge to touch the bruise as I nursed my drink. All said, it wasn’t that bad. It was only a little purple and blue, mostly sore. 

Finishing my drink I get up and head out, needing a breathe of fresh air. It’s not like I had anywhere to go. 

The wind felt nice on my skin, compared to the blazing sun from earlier. I could almost close my eyes and pretend that I was here on some road trip. Here, plains stretching out forever, it could have been the end of the world. 

“What are you doing out here.” I didn’t even have to look to know who it was. 

Beer in hand, he stumbled over to me, eyes flat.

“Are you drunk,” I asked, feeling a slight smile on my lips.

He shook his head, snorting, “Come here.” Donald wrapped his arms around me, and I didn’t mind as much as I should. 

“Your tattoo is very stupid,” I say, taking advantage of the fact he probably wouldn’t mind, being drunk an all. 

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he responded, too close for comfort. “it hurt like a bitch.”

My laugh came out strained as he lowered his face, hand on my cheek, tipping it up towards him. I tried to pull away but he held me still. 

My scream died on my lips, as I stood frozen. It’s easy to say you’ll do something when you’re not there. When the panic isn’t freezing you, rooting you in place. 

He pressed his lips against mine, and it was nothing like I wanted. All rough, stubble scratching my skin, as his hands groped my ass. It was sleazy and-

I snapped out of it, pushing against him. “Stop.” I shoved him back, pulling away. “Stop it,” I cried. 

And just like that, he let me go. 

I stumbled back, heartbeat loud in my ears. Hands shaking. Ready to bolt like a wounded animal. Blood rushing so loud, I could hear my heartbeat. My eyes never left his form, draped in the sole florescent light outside of the bar. I swallowed. 

Donald started to say something, face twisted with something I couldn’t quite make out. Instead he then turned around and went back inside, not saying a word. 

* * *

I headed over to the motel, ignoring the sharp sting going through my leg as I walked further from him. Chain ever present. A leash was still a leash however long. A prisoner was still a prisoner no matter how many smiles and gallantry coated the truth. 

I showered, rubbing my skin bright red, and then once more. Finishing off the soap and then using shampoo. 

Looking at myself in the mirror, I wasn’t sure it was me. My eyes had dark bags underneath. Cheek covered in a sprawl of blue and purple. I must have cried, because my eyes were bloodshot. 

I took a bottle out of the mini fridge, not caring who payed for it. Either way, it wasn’t me. And drank straight from the bottle, turning on the TV and letting old reruns play. 

Curling up into a ball on the edge of the bed, the warmth settled into my bones as my head swam from the cheep whiskey. I closed my eyes, and dreamt-

 

_In my dreams Donald was kind. Helping me because it was the right thing to do. In my dreams he was the cowardly lion. Or maybe that was me._ _The cowardly lion and tin man. Lacking heart and courage. What a pair._

 

_In my dreams he was the knight looking for redemption and I was Vasilisa the beautiful, on a quest to save myself. my sister._ _My sister was there. And then we were running through the grass, not in fear of something behind of. My sister was there and I never had to worry about mutations and hiding._

 

_In my dreams he kissed me and it didn’t hurt._

 

I awoke from the uncomfortable weight on my arm; from the sticky sweat, uncomfortably hot. Slowly opening my eyes, squinting from the light coming in threw the blinds, I realized I was curled into Donald. I was resting against his chest. 

Our limbs intertwined. 

Holding my breath, I slowly lifted myself up, pulling away. 

He shifted, arm outstretched, reaching for me. 

Asleep, he could have been any man. Asleep, his face softened, a kindness that it never wore when awake. 

I swallowed, forcing myself to look away as I forced myself back to sleep, staying as close to the edge as I could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't think donald would be abusive in a relationship. i think its mostly he doesn't kno what to do with himself and takes it out on well,,he's dealing with a existential crisis of sorts. not that it makes it any better. it comes out wrong because he can't deal with his feelings and beliefs conflicting. im going to start dropping names. might go back and edit, might not.  
> reader is Nancy Matilda  
> her sister is Philippa (pippa) Romilly  
> and their brother is Edmund Nathaniel.  
> ridiculous names will be explained later on. so yeah. thanks for reading.


	6. What is a Ghost?

The air was humid and dirty as we landed in Mexico City. I worked to get the hair out of my face, as the helicopter slowly stopped. 

Donald helped me down. 

I was so close. I could almost imagine my sister. Somewhere here, I thought, scanning the view. Soon we’d be together again. 

“Come on, sweetheart” Donald said, leading me along, “the view’ll be better from where we’re going.” 

We drove along the city, traffic dragging this time of day. It was one of the few times we’d been truly alone. 

He led me into an apartment complex in the nice part of the city. All marble floors and the sleek rich minimalist vibe. 

“Sit down,” he said, taking out a key and grabbing my ankle. He took off the monitor. “Now, baby, we’ve got some things to talk about.”

“Yeah,” unable to keep the excitement off my face, “we do.”

He rested his hands on my knees, “Sweetheart, I’m going to let your sister escape. Everyone will think she’s dead. And no one will be after her.” 

I nodded, “and then we’re done.”

He gave me the most patronizing smile in the world, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Donald ran a hand threw his hair. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to stay right here.”

My smile twisted into something darker, “that wasn’t part of our deal. You said-“

“I don’t care what I said,” he snapped, smile devoid of any warmth. “You’re going to stay here, or I will personally hunt you both down and bring you in,” he threaten, stroking my cheek. “Nod if you understand.”

Hands clenched at my sides, I nodded. 

“Relax baby,” he smirked, “I’ve got you.”

I had to force myself not to wipe that smirk off his face. 

“Now enjoy the view baby,” he said standing up to leave, “and stay right here.”

I looked away from him, focusing on the hazy sky, full of smog. 

When I made sure he was really gone, I started to look threw his apartment. It had to be his. But there was no way to be sure. It was sparse. A few books thrown about. 

A dead plant by the window. 

A poster of training day.  

Some bottles of whiskey and tequila. 

I shifted through a worn copy of heart of darkness. I had hated that book in high school. There had to be a gun or something in this place. 

But there wasn’t any. 

Just some pieces of electronics. Nothing useful to me. 

With nothing to do but wait, I laid down on the couch and took a nap.  Dozing on and off for the better part of the day. 

There wasn’t any food. 

I took another nap, ignoring my hunger. 

I woke up again, this time to the sound of hissed whispers, the door opening. Startled I reached out. 

“Pippa,” I called out. I knew it was her. I’d know her anywhere. Her aura was all wrong, dimmed, but I’d knew it was her. “Pippa!”

The happiness died once I took her in. My strong lovely sister had been reduced to a ghost of herself. Her body whittled down to her bones.Face shadowed by exhaustion and bruising. 

She bit her lip, before grabbing my hand, “Tilly? Is it really you?” 

I nodded as the tears ran down my face, “thank you,” I told Donald who was watching us both from the doorway. 

Her eyes darted between us, confusion clear on her face.  

“Come on,” he said, “I bet you’re hungry.”  

We had shitty chinese take out, rice and beans, and an assortment of meats, for dinner. Pippa didn’t let go of me once. And she kept her eyes trained on Donald, starting with every noise. She only took picked at the food. 

Donald ignored her. Jaw tense. Eyes flickering to the windows and door. 

“She leaves tonight at three in the morning,” Donald said, getting up and laying down on the couch, “hvae to make her disappear.”

“Your not coming,” Pippa whispered.

I shook my head. “No.”

“You have too,” she hissed, nails digging into my skin, “you can’t stay. they’ll-“ She looked over at Donald. “I won’t let _them_ have you,” she hissed. 

I hugged her, “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.” And I almost believed my own lies. 

After cleaning up the kitchen I lead her to the bedroom, laying down with her, Donald shadowing us. Trying to memorize every line of her face. Her sharp eyes, and drawn mouth. Her arms were littered with bruises. 

I held her like she had once held me, when we were young and I was terrified of the dark and I couldn’t sleep without a light on, convinced something terrible would happen if all the lights went out. 

She said nothing, staring straight threw me. 

Pippa lifted her hand, shifting it threw my hair, “you’re the tracker working for them.” My heart clenched. I tied to shake my head, to deny it, but I couldn't look into her glassy eyes and lie. “Sh,” she whispered, “I forgive you.” She kept nodded, gazing into my eyes. “We all do terrible things for love.”

I let out a breath, “I love you.”

She nodded, a soft smile on her lips. “I’m sorry.”

 

* * *

Movement stirs me awake. My sister clings to me, her fragile body easily mistaken for a child’s. 

“No,” she cries. 

“We have to go now,” Donald states, grabbing for her. 

I use my body to shield her. _Not yet. It’s too soon. Not again._

“She has to go,” he says, clearly exasperated. “She can’t stay here.”

I coax my sister to follow him, gripping her just as tight as she holds on to me. We have so little time. We had so little time. Her eyes constantly study my face. 

Even as Donald protests, I sit in the back of the car with her; the city feeling oppressively menacing, now devoid of traffic and human activity. I whisper reassurances into her ear. 

I need to see her off. I need to make sure he doesn’t just kill her. I need to. I need to. I need-

He pulls up to the industrial part of the airport. Where everyday thousands of mass produced goods come and go. “Come on,” he motions, heading to one of the terminals.

She starts to cry as Donald hands her off, ready to ship her to some far flung place. _We’ll probably never see each there again._ “Please,” she utters, reminiscent of a dying animal. “Please-“

“You stupid mutie,” Donald hisses, “you’re going to get us all killed.”

I let him pull me away, staring after my sister, as she disappears into a cargo plane, bound for the other side of the world. 

“Not you too,” Donald mouths off, noticing the tears running down my face. 

“Why do you hate us so much,” I whisper, wiping the tears away, “what did we ever do to you?”

“Don’t start this shit.” He shoves me into the car. “Let’s just go home and sleep. I have to work at fucking five in the morning.”

“It’s just one gene,” I mutter, staring at the sleeping city on the drive back,“that’s it. Less then the genes that account for eye color.”

_It’s just one gene._

He ignores me, not waiting for me as he walks back to the apartment. 

I contemplate sleeping in the car before following him up. 

 

* * *

In the morning there’s a note on the fridge along with some mexican pesos and a photo of my sister and I laying of the bed. I crushed it against my chest, as I could somehow bring her closer to me. 

_Gone to work._

_Don’t be shy, darling._

_Go out and get us something to eat._

_-Donnie._

I spent all the money on clothes, and a lunch for myself. 


	7. Let's Just not Talk.

“Hablas ingles,” a girl asked me, accent thick. She was usually sitting the lobby, music audible through her headphone. 

“Si,” I nodded, arms awkwardly hanging by my sides. 

“Want to do trade?”

“Que?”

She motioned to her textbook, “I have a paper in english. You help me, I help you.”

I would have helped anyway. There’s only so much to do around here. Only so many times I could walk around the block. Only so many times I could reread Donald’s pitiful collection of books and comics. 

“Si,” I replied, eagerly grabbing for the textbook. “Are you in high school?”

“En la universidad,” she replied, not bothering to look up. “And you?”

“Oh,” I muttered trying to think up of a lie. “I’m just sort of here.” 

She nodded. Then went back to her work. 

I never thought I’d miss schoolwork. But it was nice to read and write again. To have something to do, however small. 

It was harder than I though it would be; an article on the negotiations over the colorado river. California was trying to screw over the rest of the states, and it was pretty much legal. 

The questions were much more complex, asking for literary techniques I’d never really bothered to learn. 

“What are you studying,” I asked, breaking the silence and lacking the spanish for more than yes and no. 

“Ciencia medioambiental,” she muttered. “Science of the environment.” 

“Cool,” I replied not really meaning it. I had only taken the bare minimum of science classes, and had somehow managed my way through math. I told her as much. 

“What will you study?”

“I wanted to study art history, but now I don’t think I will study.” I didn’t even know what would happen to me at all.  The last thing on my mind was going to college. 

“Me llamo Renatta. What do you need?”

I smiled, looking up at her, “do you know where there’s a library or bookstore? I kept trying to find one but my spanish is shit?”

“I can teach you spanish,” she told me, “pero solo te voy hablar en espanol. Emersion total.” 

“Oh god.” I muttered, smiling despite myself. It was nice to talk to someone other than Donald. It had been five weeks since the last time I had spoken to anyone other than at the market. And paying didn’t really count. 

“Vente,” she motioned. 

And I followed her, and let her help me set up a library card. Not having any proof of residence, Renatta provided it for me. 

And I kept thanking her. 

“No. Not thank you,” she rolled her eyes, “gracias.”

“Gracias. Gracias. Gracias.”

My arms were heavy under the weight of the english books I had found, a cook book, some movies, and discs to learn spanish. And then I could come back again, and again. I smiled. 

“You live on the third floor, right?”

“Mhm.”

“I have class tomorrow late. Pero el lunes?”

I nodded, not sure when that was. Not like I had much to do anyways. She offered to help me bring my stuff up, but I shook my head, “esta bien. esta bien.” I could handle a ridiculous amount of books. She finally conceded after the tech time I repeated, “esta bien.”

Which was lucky because Donald was home early for once. 

Fuck. I had been hoping to make everything disappear. He hand’t really said what I could and couldn’t do. But he had blown up last time when I had made sweet tea wrong. 

“I found a library,” I grinned, deciding to pretend we were normal roommates, and not-

“Come on and eat,” he motioned. 

I set everything down on the couch, trying to get a feel for his mood. It was easier to read him now. His aura was a cool orange hue. Okay, we’re good. We’re fine then. 

Donald complained about nosy nurses “who don’t have shit to complain about. Just stick to their fucking jobs. Noisy brats.” He still hadn’t told me what exactly he was up to. And I wasn’t sure I could take it. 

I was tired of worrying about things out of my control. 

“Don’t forget to drink some water,” he said, filling my glass again. “Gotta stay hydrated baby.” He handed me back my glass, smirking as usual.

I drank, a feeling of unease in my gut. Something wasn’t right. 

_Calm down._

By the time I had finished cleaning up, Donald was already flipping through the channels, beer had finished. 

“Bring me the bag on the counter,” he muttered.

I didn’t need to be told twice. It wasn’t very heavy, I noted, handing it to him. A slight sterilized smell in the air. 

“Now,” he said opening up the bag, “hold out your arm and try to relax. It’ll hurt if you don’t, and we don’t want that now do we baby.”

Hausa filled me as I realized the size of the needle and bag. He was drawing blood. _He was going to draw my blood._

“Why do you need-“

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” he said, rubbing numbing cream and rubbing alcohol over the area where my veins were. “Just relax.”

I swallowed, not convinced at all. 

“It’s just a small sting baby,” he said as I flinched, hand gripping his knee. 

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered under my breath. 

He heard anyway and laughed. It was the same loud and unashamed laugh, but the tone was lighter than usual. 

I felt lightheaded once we were done, leaning back against the couch, not quite trusting myself to stand up. “I thought it didn’t do much to get your blood drawn.” 

Donald chose to ignore me, putting the blood in the fridge. 

“That better be gone tomorrow,” I said, lightheaded, as if gravity didn’t apply to me as it usually did, arms light as a feather.

“Don’t worry about it darling.”

Tired of his usual level of condescension, I got up, planning to claim the bed for myself. Tomorrow I could watch Legally Blonde all day and no one could stop me. It had been Pippa’s favorite movie. 

The room shifted around me-

“Sweetheart!” He ran over to my side.

My eyes closed.

* * *

 

“You’ve gotta drink some soda darling,” Donald said gently, propping me up on his chest. The smell of earth was replaced by the sterilized puke found in hospitals and doctor’s offices. My nose wrinkled. 

He held a bottle of soda to my lips and made me drink. 

I tried to get up, but my limbs felt so heavy. “My head hurts.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, tucking my head under his chin. It was easier to let him, to curl up into him, and just let go. “It’s okay,” he continued. “Just need some sugar, that’s all.”

The room steadied as I drank some more sips. My bones hurt as I tried to move. My eyes fluttered close, taking all my energy to stay awake. 

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Donald said pulling me up, resting my weight on his. 

“You took too much blood,” I muttered, “didn’t you.” I had seen enough doctor shows to know that much. 

He ignored me, half carrying half dragging me to the bedroom, carefully laying me down, pulling the covers around me. 

Hands shaking, I gripped the blanket around me. 

“How do I know that you didn’t just kill my sister,” I whispered, a thought that had been nagging me for a while; that I tried to ignore. “How do I know she’s alive? That you didn’t have her killed and dumped the body somewhere?”

“You don’t,” Donald stated, laying down besides me, “but you don’t really have a choice do you mutie.” 

I knew he was saying that terrible word just to get a rise out to me. 

Yet it still stung, even if I knew that was just what he was like. Even though I knew he hated my kind, and that meant he hated me. All because of one little gene. 

Except not really. Hate gave him to much credit. He didn’t even think of us as people, with hopes and dreams, just like every other human on earth. 

_We looked up at the stars, hands outstretched even as our feet are rooted in the earth, like people have been doing since the dawn of time._

_Just like every other human on this planet._

I turned over on my side, facing away from him, biting my lip, and cried. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my high school spanish is finally coming in handy. i dont think anything really needs translating as most of it is what, or can be inferred easily. but if u want it translated let me kno.


	8. Spite and Splintered Bone.

Renata made me buy the curros. “You must practice,” she kept saying as she shoved me forward, not letting me hide behind her.

They were filled with some caramel sort of substance. It was better than the curros at Disneyworld. I sighed as we sat on a bench. 

“How long,” she started, face scrunched up in thought, “are. . .will you be here for?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, licking the caramel off my fingers even as she handed me a napkin. “Until,” I trailed off. 

“The man you live says,” she responded, “algo.”

“Have you been stalking me,” I countered, not wanting to talk about Donald Pierce with the only escape I had from whatever that was. I was careful never to mention her to him. She was mine. 

“What is stalking?”

“Following. . .sige me?”

“Sigeindo me,” she instantly corrected. 

“Yeah that.”

She smiled, refusing to answer. “Ese si es bien gringo,” she said instead. 

“I got about half of that.”

She laughed, “I go dance tonight. Ven conmigo?”

“No,” I shake my head. “No puedo.” Donald’s hours were too erratic to risk it. Even if he had generally been nicer to me since- His version of nicer being less bitchy comments at all hours. Smirk softening into a passible smile. 

“Then we have to dance now!” She pulled me up and started to dance to the tune the street guitarist played. “Con mas sabor! Algo mas chingon,” she cried. 

I couldn’t keep up with her pace. She had a rhythm and grace, while I kept bumping into her, stepping on her toes. 

“I teach you dance,” she said, grabbing my hand, and pulling me close. 

We laughed, as she led with much more conviction then I could manage in public. 

We toppled over as she tried to spin me. I landed on my ass. Renatta landed on me. 

“Fuck,” I cried, as a sharp pain went through my ankle. I could not catch a break. 

She quickly got up, and helped me stand, “estas bien?”

Nodding, I tested out my ankle, slowing placing my weight on in. “Fuck,” I gasped. “No, no bien.”

I put my arm around her as we stumbled to call a taxi. “No mas dancing for me,” I told her. She laughed despite the situation. 

“More practice. Next time we go out.”

I placated her with promises of going out with her friends when I was better. “si. si. si” As we made our way up the stair to the apartment. I could deal with her disappointment later. 

“We should go to doctor,” she insisted. 

“No.” I couldn’t risk it. I had no papers. No ID. Not to mention Donald. I’d just wait for him to get here, whenever that was. 

“Okay,” she relented, having finally getting to the third floor. 

I pulled out my key, resting against the wall, and bust out laughing when my eyes met Renatta’s. The pain had been worth the afternoon. 

The door opened before I had even put the key in. 

“Where the fuck have you been,” Donald asked, studying Renata. 

“I hurt my ankle.”

Renata awkwardly added, “Te vio?”

Nodding I stumbled in the door, shoving Donald inside and closing the door. My ankle throbbed with pain at the effort. 

“Fuck,” I hissed, collapsing on the couch. That was as far as I was willing to go.

“Darling, you didn’t tell me you had friends.”

“Can we not do this right now? I need a doctor or something and I’m sure you have some shady as fuck way of making that happen.” I bit back the annoyance, but it bleed through. 

“You should have told me,” he said instead, pulling out his phone.

I glared at him. “I’m crippled. You have to be nice to me.”

“I don’t have to be anything,” he said, stepping on my ankle, “baby.”

I kicked him with my good leg, but he caught it. “Now calm down or I might just leave you like this.”

Scowling, I pulled my legs up to my chest. “Just make sure it’s a good shady doctor. Not some quack doctor like the ones from whatever backwards town you grew up in.”

He snapped, slapping me. 

I didn’t flinch. 

Donald went back to ignoring me as he continued on his phone, shutting himself in the room. I turned the tv on to animal planet, which was unfortunately in spanish like everything else in the god damn country. 

I sighed. 

* * *

 

The door rang and I made no move to get up. The doorbell never rang. It had to be important, so Pierce would get in. 

And open it he did, as I started daggers at his back. 

He shoved a mexican lady inside. She was probably around his age. Her smile was kind, with a gentle aura, an earthy brown with tones of orange.  

“Fix her,” he said, not unkindly, “and then forget this ever happened.” He spared her a glance, “understand.” 

She nodded, opening a bag full of first aid supplies, “Si Mr. Pierce.” 

She sat down besides me, “what’s wrong?”

“I fell and hurt my ankle. It was stupid.” Then added, “What’s your name?”

“Gabriela,” she said running her fingers over my ankle, putting slight pressure here and there. 

I tried not to wince to much. 

“It is just a sprain.” Her hands worked gently as she bound my foot in cloth. “You need to rest for the next two weeks. It’ll be fine. Do not do anything to hard for a month.”

I nodded. She kept avoiding my gaze. She must have thought I was just as bad as Donald to be here with him. Had my sister thought the same? 

She cupped my cheek, running her fingers where Pierce’s hand was still imprinted on my skin, “pobresita,” she whispered. Gabriela looked over to the kitchen where Pierce was opening a beer. “You need to get out of here. Mr. Pierce is very bad man.” _Like I needed her to tell me that._

But it didn’t feel as true as it should have.

Shaking my head, “I can’t.” I’ve come to far to turn back now. “No puedo.”

I’ve gone too far to turn back now. 

Where would I even go? 

“Are you done yet Gabriela?” Her name sounded wrong coming from his mouth. 

“Yes Mr. Pierce.”

“Good, now leave. And be a good little nurse and forget all about this.” He waved her away. 

She didn’t meet my gaze as she rushed out. 

Donald placed his arm around me, “Don’t ever forget who takes care of you.” He pulled me against him, placing a kiss on my temple. 

 

“My. little. mutant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its always weird to post chapters since im ahead writing wise. im getting to the point where im deciding if i want a happy ending or grim like the style logan is in. thoughts? its always one step forward then two steps back w donnie lbr.


	9. Unfinished Duets

“Get up sleeping beauty,” Donald called, opening the curtains up all the way, “we’ve got church.” Unlike most alarms, this one didn’t have a snooze button. 

“Atheist,” I mumbled, burring my face into the pillow.  Hoping against all odds he’d just give up and leave me the fuck alone. 

“Come now sweetheart,” he chided, throwing a dress at my general direction, “you need the lord more than anyone.”

I scowled, wrapping the covers around me, a protective cocoon. 

“We can even get those pastries you like so much.”

Yawning I got up, stretching my arms and cracking my back. “and the raspberry cakes.”

“Don’t be greedy. It’s the lord’s day.”

“My ass,” I muttered under my breath, grabbing the dress and changing in the bathroom. It didn’t have a lock so I had to keep my foot against it. Donald had no respect for personal space. 

He dragged me into mass, which I was pretty sure wasn’t even his own denomination, and it was in spanish. So what was the point really?

“Now baby,” was all he responded with as the whole thing started. 

I wasn’t even religious and I somehow managed to be more respectful than Donald. But that was always. No one had told him no as a child, and now I was stuck with this asshole. 

He kept flipping through the bible, glancing at the door, refusing to stand up for the fifth time. 

“Can you chill,” I hissed, “what was the point of coming if you’re going to be an asshole even here.” 

“It’s for you,” he said slowly. 

Ignoring him worked the best. Donald would quit whatever he was up to if he realized it didn’t get under my skin. 

We both breathed in relief when the ordeal was over. Hopefully he’d drop this idea after this. 

“So you said something about pastries,” I said, knowing he’d follow me as I took off. It’s not like he had anyone else. 

The cases were filled with confections straight out of a commercial, and they tasted just as good. Regatta had shown me this place, and then I had made Donald bring me overtime he was off. Turn out he had just as much as a sweet tooth as I did.

We each got more than a slice of cake, sitting on the fountain bench to eat them, a cold bottle of coke to go along. 

“You’d think it would be too much,” I said, taking another bite, “but I could easily eat the whole damn cake.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Donald said through a mouthful of chocolate. 

I stuck out my tongue. 

“You have,” he said grabbing hold of my chin, “on your lip.” Then leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, licking away the frosting as he kissed me. 

I had barely registered that he was kissing me when he pulled back, and looked away, almost crushing his cake in the process. It was one of the few times he had be something other than a cocky asshole. 

All too human and unsure.

I look down at the ground. It was easier when we pretended everything was normal and ignored everything else. So many subjects left alone.

Brushing it off, I asked, “So how’d you get the tooth? I thought gold teeth were reserved for grandparents and the wild west.” 

“Oh,” he said, smile not quite reaching his eyes as he met my gaze, “CO didn’t appreciate my commentary. One day she got so fed up she took her rifle and got me good in the jaw.” 

I laughed despite myself, “so it’s not just me. _Donald Pierce._ ”

He grinned right back, “like you have much room to talk. Your name is a mouthful. Nancy Matilda. . what else,” he asked tilting his chin.

“My mom was very into Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters,” I protested.  “Hell, my parents met in Baths. While they were both studying abroad in England. Well, my mom mostly. I think my dad was just wandering about at the time.”

I shook my head, “Honestly I got the short end of the stick. Nancy after some english novelist and Matilda after a fictional character who saves everyone because she has-she’s special.” I decided to ignore that literary Matilda was pretty much a mutant. Even if she was never named so in text. 

“At least my sister and brother got names that sounded nice together. Mine’s just a jumble of ideas thrown on me as the last child.” 

“I happen to like your name just fine, even if it does belong in some english book. _Nancy_.”

“Donald,” I mocked right back. “Did you ever study?”

He nodded, “Bioengineering and Robotics. At first it was because I wanted to make my own R2-D2, but after serving in the army I guess I just wanted to help those who had a little less luck then me on their tour of duty.”

“The cyborgs of tomorrow are here today. It’ll end up being like plastic surgery, developed to help, but used to enhance people who don’t really need it.” I smiled, before adding, “I always wanted to study art history.”

He raised an eyebrow. 

“What! It’s so interesting once you get all the context and impact behind a piece. I mean I heavily disagree with Mondrian, but I do love his crazy ideas behind seemingly simple squares, however exclusionary and elitist.”

Look over at me he said, “Come on. I know something we can do.”

* * *

 

Donald ended up taking us to Frida Khalo’s house. It was more colorful in person than any photo could ever show. 

I kept telling Donnie facts about Frida Khalo. “Can you imagine her and Josephine Baker were a thing! Not to mention the other contested affairs she had. I mean it wasn’t just Diego.” Getting distracted by every small detail, almost being able to imagine that Frida was about to come home any minute. 

“During this time, science was taught in spanish,” I said glancing at a Velasco painting, once I found him leaning against a wall. “Americans would come to Mexico City to learn from the masters of the time,” I continued. “Isn’t that crazy. How much history can change. Even from generation to generation.”

“Hey,” he said, intertwining his hand with mine, “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay Nancy.” And I believed him. 

“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head, “Sometimes I think I feel too much. I want to cry at every sad story on the news, and it can’t just be me. Can it?”

Donnie hugged me, wrapping his arms around me, “You’re soft, baby. That’s all.”

I didn’t pull away, as he kept his hand holding mine, all the way back to the house. 

I popped in a rented copy of an old star wars movie. I had never seen them in theaters, but Donnie loved them “Nerd,” I called after him as he went to shower. 

He flipped me off. 

The only connection to Star Wars was some vague memories of my brother protesting them, like he had often protested and boycotted things all through high school. No wonder he had gone off to chain himself to trees in brazil. 

Donnie’s aura flashed bright, like a match striking-

I could sense him, the want and need all mixed up, without even trying to, and flooding my senses. The overwhelming anger at- His usual dull redish orange was vivid; the last rays of sun flashing before sinking into the horizon. 

Without meaning to, I padded over to the bathroom door, drawn to him like a moth to flame. Holding my breath, I placed my ear against the door, careful not to make a sound.

The sound of water didn’t drown out the soft moans coming from Donald completely. I felt flushed, face burning as I realized why.

“Fuck,” Donnie uttered, from inside. “ _Nancy,”_ he groaned. 

I bit my lip, stifling a gasp. His own need and longing coursing through me, as his aura spiked, warmth spreading to the pit of my stomach. I shut my eyes, forcing myself out, blocking him. 

It took all my effort to untangle myself from Donnie, and even then I could still sense him. Hear his moans through the shower. 

“ _Fuck._ ” 

I swallowed, ignoring how hot my skin felt, and curled up on the couch, not quite able to concentrate on Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been out on vacation. left my makeup bag behind. might get it back? anyways: that's why ive not been posting.


	10. Cardboard Boxes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for violence and abuse probs.

“Take a shot every time someone says that he has eyes like his mother,” Renata said, pouring tequila into shot glasses.

“Take a shot every time Malfoy says Potter,” I replied taking a shot. 

Renata turned out to still live with her parent’s since, “I have everything good here. The dormitories are so bad.” We were sitting on her couch, marathoning all the Harry Potter movies seeing as we had nothing to do and she had finished her midterms yesterday. 

“I think math was not so good,” she mused, “pero it is my last math so. .”

“It’s not like you need math. I mean it’s not really used in-“

“Honestamente.”

We took a shot as they once again suspected Snape of being evil, which he totally was. The worst. 

I sighed, “this is not going to end well for us,” drowning another shot as Harry spat Malfoy once again. 

Renata laughed, “I am a happy drunk. So it is okay.” 

Scowling, I replied, “I don’t think I’ve ever been that drunk. Like I have had alcohol but not much. I’m such a square.” 

Which was true. All those Hollywood teen movies had been anything but true for me. I knew that there were parties going on and people smoking weed, but that had never been me. I wasn’t ever invited to those house parties, spending my time at parks and museums. 

It’s not like I had minded. But still, it would have been nice. 

I took another shot without any reason to.  

She hugged me, “You are my little baby. Never have been drunk,” she said as I squirmed in her hold. 

“Get off,” I giggled, “Gosh mom.”

We finished off the chips rather quickly, and thought about going out to get more. But it was lat and we were lazy and it wasn’t the safest city to be out late at night in even if we did live in the nice part. 

“We should have gotten tres."

“Yo te dije,” Renata retorted, twirling around the room in a poor imitation of ballet. “Yo soy the swan! No. Yo soy the fairy de the nutcracker!”

“Oh my god,” I cried, “I love that ballet. I wanted to be Misty Copeland but then I broke an ankle.” 

We played the dance of the snowflakes a good five times before collapsing on the ground in laughter. My sides hurt. My cheeks ached from smiling so much. 

I couldn’t look at her without bursting into another laughing fit. 

We were as graceful as. . .something graceless. 

“Stay,” Renata said clinging to my arm, “sleepover.”

“No. No,” I shook my head, blushing at the thought of- 

“I have to go.” 

“Ah si, tu novio,” she giggled, leaning on the door.

“Let that go,” I whined, not being able to help how my heart fluttered at the thought, and not being able to open the door. “Stop laughing and help me!”

Renata shook her head, watching me struggle and laughing. “Stay.”

“No,” I said finally prying it open even as I stumbled out the door. “Te vio tomorrow?”

“No because you won’t stay,” she pouted. 

I didn’t bother closing the door as Renata was still calling out to me as I stumbled up the stairs, wanting to collapse onto the bed. 

Donnie still wasn’t home. It was past one in the morning. I wanted to call him. But I din’t have a phone or his number. 

I sulked on the couch, flipping through reruns of novelas, not really paying attention. There were even infomercials in spanish. I laughed. There were probably infomercials in every language. 

I sulked on the floor, studying the ceiling. Smiling and smiling as I thought about the sushi Renata had promised me tomorrow. 

I attempted to make pancakes. Donnie was always in a bad mood when he got home very late. He never said why and I’d learned not to ask. 

I watched the pancakes form bubbles as they cooked, looking more like spongebob squarepants then food. The more I watched the more the bubbles freaked me out. “It just looks wrong,” I whispered, head shaking. “They’re just circles. They’re just circles.”

The door opened. 

“Donnie!” I abandoned the remaining pancake mix, “I thought you were never coming back. Also the pancakes are freaking me out.”

He smiled amused, “someone can’t hold their-“

“Don’t. You’re supposed to be very happy because I made you food and I never make anything because I hate cooking but I wanted to make you pancakes so you have to be very grateful.” I wasn’t sure how much he understood. 

I dragged him to the kitchen, tired of trying to explain to him. 

“If I had known I’d get food, I’d be late more often.”

“No,” I cried, “no because you’re always in a bad mood when you get here late. I mean you’re always mean to me, but I think thats just you.”

He laughed, pouring syrup on the stack of pancakes, hogging them all. 

I reached out and stroked his cheek, stubble tickling my hand. “You don’t always have to be such an asshole.” _You don’t always have to be an asshole just to hurt me._

I must have said the last part out loud, because Donnie’s face darkened. 

“Don’t,” he snapped knocking my hand away. “You’re just drunk.”

It hurt. I knew he didn’t mean it, but it still hurt. I wasn’t useful to him yet I was still alive. 

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I know you don’t mean it because you’ve kept me around and I don’t mind it here. I mean I wish things were different, but you-

“I said don’t,” he yelled, slamming his hands against the counter. 

“I know-“

“You don’t know shit you stupid mutant.”

Flinching, I continued with courage borrowed from the shots earlier, “I know you don’t mean that because you kissed me even though you hate what I am.” 

I was ready for him to hit me, but instead he wrapped his hand around my throat, pressing hard enough to cut off the air. Pressing hard enough for it to hurt. 

“You think I could ever want a dirty mutie! You are nothing. I can kill you whenever I want. I can hand you in and you’ll never see the light of day again. But I haven’t because it amuses me. You think I could ever care about you? You’re just some freak of nature,” he hissed, face contorted with disgust. 

I sucked in air as he let me go, slumping to the ground. 

“You can’t cook for shit baby,” he said, skulking off to his room. 

I laid on the ground for a long time after. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> totes deleted that other fic bc i just did not know where to go with it. like i couldn't write anything which is like a huge tell that i wont. idk. anyways, enjoy.


	11. Split Me Open

“Gabriela,” I call out. I’m sure it’s her. Especially when her eyes light up in recognition, and she turns around, heading in the opposite direction. 

“Gabriela,” I repeat, catching up to her. Feeling the jolt of fear going down my spine, I realize I’m scaring her. “It’s okay I just-“ I break off. I’m not sure what I was hoping for. 

My hand hangs in the air, outstretched. “I’m sorry. I should go.” 

“I told you to get as far away from here as you can,” she says, eyes darting around the market. “There are things going on. . .it is better for you to leave.”

“Well, everyone always seems to know more than me. And I can’t really leave.” I can feel the familiar surge of tears, and bite them back. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not your problem.”

She rests her hand on my arm, “You’ve made it this far.”

Nodding, I grab my bag full of snacks and head out. Ignoring her gaze on my back, I walk out into the crowd, wishing I was just one of millions. 

I need to figure out where my sister is and somehow leave. I needed to do what I should have done from the start. I needed to risk everything just to be a family again. Just to be Tilly and Pippa. 

But I didn’t even know where to start. 

She could be anywhere. 

But she wouldn’t be anywhere. 

I stop at the library, using their computers from a million years ago to send an e mail to my brother. I know she would have contacted him, just to say she was okay. It was my best chance. Then I could find her and we could hide somewhere where no one would find us. 

Where he wouldn’t find us. 

I ignored the tightening in my chest, hurt over ridiculous ideas that had no fucking point. 

_Breathe. Just breathe._

Short and punctual. “Am o k. Miss u. Does the femme miss me? Debo.” Vague enough so that only my family would know it was me. Vague enough that it wouldn’t raise suspicion if anyone was watching. 

I hit send, feeling my hands relax after minutes of hovering over the keyboard.  

Now I just had to make it through the days. 

I lived like a ghost. Coming and going without anyone caring. The only person I had to talk to was Renata, and she was gone on vacation. I refused to speak to him. It got under his nerves. And I was tired of pretending that this was normal. That everything was fine. 

And so we went on. I had learned to avoid him. Rising late, and going to sleep early. Some days I didn’t even leave the bed. Happy to lay there and stare at the ceiling for hours on end. 

So I went home. Ate a bag of chips. And curled under the covers, knowing I’d fall asleep sooner or later. 

* * *

 

The last rays of sunlight were casting shadows all over the room as Donald came in. 

I kept still, hoping that he’d just leave. But he came over, and I wasn’t able to help myself. I met his gaze. I couldn’t get a read on him.

Neither of us said anything. 

And then he leaned down, shifting himself onto the bed, the tiny space between me and the edge of the bed, and kissed me. My eyes widened in surprise. Not sure what to do. Not sure if I wanted to kiss him back, or push him away. 

His kiss was rough and sloppy, his body hot against mine. Lips pressed against mine. Stubble scratching my cheeks. The smell of alcohol on his breath, not quite meeting my gaze. 

Donald pushed me down against the bed, head cupping my cheek, pressing kisses against my lips as I struggled to react. To snap out of it. 

To make a choice between want and need and reason  and the crushing regret for later. 

I kissed him back, tentatively wrapping my arms around his neck, running a head through his hair, soft to the tough, as he laid against me, his hand pulling my shirt up, crushing my hipbone in his hold, leaving handprints all along my side. 

Donald trailed kisses down my neck, nipping at the skin hard enough to make me gasp, moaning his name like it was all I’d ever known. He pressed his hips taunt against mine , the feel of his body against mine and I was gone. 

I scrambled to pull his shirt off, wound up in anticipation. Needing more of him. Needing to feel him against me. Skin feverishly hot in want as he ran his hands against any skin he could reach, the sliver of skin between my shirt and panties, shoving my shirt up. 

“Donnie,” I moaned, as he cupped my breasts, running his thumb over my nipple, and twisting hard.

I reached for the button of his jeans, beyond caring about anything but him. The warmth of his body against mine, the rough kisses bruising my skin. I moaned against his skin, consumed with need. 

Donnie rubbed circles over my clit, pulling my underwear down, smothering my moans with his own as he pushed in, thrusting hard, baring all his weight down on me. His fingers dug into my skull, as his hand crushed my hip, nails imprinting half moons on my side.  

The pain and pleasure blended together. All there was, all I wanted was him. Even if it was like this, more animalistic desire than anything else. 

I dug my fingers into his back. _“fuck. fuck. Donnie.”_ I moaned into the crook of his neck. Eyes squeezed shut. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, “baby you feel so good.” 

My legs wrapped around his waist. 

Nothing was enough. 

I wanted him in some primal way that I had mistaken for romantic when I was younger, before I knew how much that hurt, with my heart in my throat. All the want and need coming out wrong. 

Donnie thrust into me, crushing me into the mattress, pressing into me. I moaned, in pain, in pleasure.

“Fuck.”

He came against me, crushing my body against his in is grip, moaning all the wrong words. 

I followed him, lost in the sensation of him around me. Of everything that was him as my vision went vivid orange, all the sunrises I had watched from the shoreline. 

Lost in bliss, I hardly noticed Donald hoisting himself up, pulling on his shirt, until I heard the front door slam shut. 

It could have been a dream. 

Except my body throbbed. And my chest ached. 

It had been nothing like the first time, or even the second. All awkward limbs, fumbling in the dark, and trying to remember you were supposed to enjoy it. 

But it was so wrong. Donald Pierce was so wrong. 

But I didn’t care. I covered my ears, closed my eyes, unable to care about anything but the overwhelming feeling tight in my chest when he was here. The hole in my chest with him gone. 

He didn’t come back later or the next day. 

And I lied to myself. Telling myself I didn’t care. If I said enough times, it might make it true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah these dumb kids. after this everything changes. so enjoy.


	12. Wrestle it Out.

I had choices to make. I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t just sit around and wait for the shoe to drop. I had to leave. I had to get out of here. 

_Breathe._

It was time. I had waited for as long as I could. Had played along for as long as I could. But I was done. 

I saved as much money as I could, squirreling it away, hiding it. I changed pesos into dollars. I bought a bag that could easily be used to travel with, but still passed as a regular bag. I knew getting back into the States would be the hardest, but I didn’t let myself think about that now. 

I never let myself think about anything more than what I had to do now. 

I avoided Renata, cutting her out of my life. Making something up about her and how I didn’t want to spend time with her anymore. The look of hurt on her face almost made me crack. It was too close to how I felt.

 And if Donald noticed anything, he didn’t say anything. 

I rarely left the flat. To tired to do anything more than buy food. Scarred to death to break the tense silence between us. 

Not that Donald seemed to mind or notice. He never came home before one in the morning, and left before I woke up. 

And I hated how much that affected me. 

I hated how much I cared about him. 

_Breathe._

I try to figure out where to start looking for my sister. Where she and whatever mutants are left would go hide out. 

I contemplate taking MGH and if there even was any left to sell on the streets with a shortage of mutants these days. 

I waited until Donald left before getting out of bed, and running for it. Taking a bag, some cash, and a cab to the airport. The airplane was worth the risk. It was the fastest way to the boarder. And then- 

And then I crossed the boarder somehow. 

_Breathe._

The hardest part was stopping myself from looking over my shoulder, waiting to board. I kept seeing him out of the corner of my eye. I kept wishing it was him. 

My hands kept shaking, bone white as I crushed the hand rests. 

It was all I could do to keep it together. 

And when that didn’t help, I started to pace around the airport.  

 

Someone shoved me into a bathroom. 

“Everybody out,” Pierce yelled. Waving everyone out, gripping my arm. 

He looked at me, “How stupid do you think I am baby.” 

“I’m not going back,” I spat. It was true. I’d rather die. I was done.

“Is that how it’s going to be?” He pulled out a gun, pointing it at me, clicking the safety off. 

“Do it,” I hissed. Hoping he would. 

I fought the urge to move. Staring him down. 

“Nancy,” he started through gritted teeth, “don’t be stupid.”

“Do it.” 

He couldn’t. He brought the gun down. 

“Fuck,” he yelled, “fuck.” 

I was careful, approaching him slowly. Not sure what he would do.

“Just let me go. I’ll keep my head down and it’ll be like nothing ever happened. Okay,” I whispered, wanting him to hold me one last time. 

“Nancy,” he pleaded, before breaking off, not knowing what he wanted. But I did. I knew what we were, and what we weren’t. 

I shook my head, “You can’t. We can’t do this. You can’t want me and care about and hate what I am. You can’t hate something so integral to who I am and still want me. IT doesn’t work that way. You don’t get to pick and choose.” 

My throat was choked with emotion. With the relief of finally saying all those unspoken things between us, that never saw the light of day.

“Nancy,” he started again, cupping my face between his hands. “Please don’t leave. You can’t. I won’t let you.” But Donnie didn’t mean it. He could have stopped me and he hadn’t.

And even now, he couldn’t bring himself to say what he really meant. 

I pulled away, tired of waiting for him. Tired of trying to make him love me even a fraction of the amount that I felt for him. 

“I love you Donnie, no matter how fucked up that is, but I can’t stay here. I can’t be with you. Not like this.” 

He leaned in and I let him. I met his lips, kissing him softly, with none of the urgency that I felt. Donnie for once was tender, carefully running his hand against my back, pressing me against him. 

His scruff now a familiar texture against my skin. I traced his tattoo with my finger tips one last time.

We broke for air, looking into each other’s eyes. Nothing left to say. Nothing that could change things. In another life-

Donnie looked away, handing me and thick envelope. 

I took it without a word and left, not stopping till I boarded the plane, taping my fingers against the seat rest, even as my heart was breaking. 

There was no going back. 

There was nothing to begin with, except what could have been. If things were different. If he wasn’t a mutant hunter. IfI wasn’t a mutant. If- You could go crazy thinking of ifs.

There was more money inside the envelope, both dollars and pesos. And fake papers. Birth certificate. Social security card. A passport. All for one Nancy Romilly Pierce. 

I smiled ruefully, even as I held back tears.

What an asshole.

There was no looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we won't see donnie for the next two or so chapters. but we're not done yet folks.


	13. Butterflies and Needles

The problem with finding someone is knowing where to start. I knew my sister was with the Professor and whatever was left of the x men. But I didn’t know where they’d go hide. I didn’t know where to start. 

All I had was the location of the Xavier School. 

But that was closed. 

Dust blanketing the grounds. It was erie to walk around the grounds, as if class was about to return to session at any moment. 

I kept my mind open, feeling around the area, ready to bolt at any movement, at any sign of a threat. I kept jumping at every noise. 

_Just Breathe Nancy._

I tried to find some clue, something left. There were papers, but mostly pamphlets about dealing with your new mutation and about the school. Nothing useful. 

I had to find her and this was my only lead, and of course there was nothing. 

I looked through the magazines in a lounge room. Sofas covered with a protective sheet. As if people were planning to return. 

I never attended Xavier’s, but it hurt to see the school like this. It was wrong. It was all so wrong. We were supposed to be the next step in human evolution, not the neanderthals. Not here one moment gone the next. 

A crashing noise came from down the hall. 

I fought the urge to run and choose to hide, grip tightening around a small pistol I had gotten. I was a shit aim, but it felt like something.

I waited in a niche, amping up my sensing and focusing on everything nearby. 

 _Nothing._  

My muscles ached from the lack of movement; from being coiled and tense. I waited. 

I could’t sense anything. Nothing alive. So I took a deep breathe and bolted, sprinting for the door. 

I hadn’t even made it halfway through the room when something clocked me in the head. 

A woman with a bat stood above me. Her eyes were clear, light grey enough to almost be white. The only color on her was the terrible dye job that was her muck-ish brown hair. 

“Who are you,” she asked, bat ready to swing. 

My hands clutched at my head, winching as the room came back into focus. “Take it easy.”

“I said Who. Are. You.” She kicked my gun out of reach, staring me down. She was thin. I might have been able to take her if not for the bat. 

“Nancy. My name’s Nancy and I’m just looking for my sister. She’s supposed to be with the Professor somewhere.”

“Prove it,” she hissed.

“How the hell am I supposed to do that.” I got up, careful not to make any sudden movements. “Who the hell are you!”

She glanced at me, weighing her options before finally speaking again. “They’re all gone.” She put the bat down. “Gone under. It’s not safe.” 

“I know.”

“We need to find Caliban. Sun said to find him if I didn’t make it.” Her eyes were trained on me even as she pocketed my gun, turning the safety back on. “You are coming are you not?” 

“Who are you?”

“Hannah. I can shield.” She nodded towards me, “and you?”

“I can sense things. Auras,” I shrugged. My mutation was messy and weird. 

“You look like her. Pippa. Except for the hair. She’s also taller.”

“And more useful.”

She smiled, holding her hand out to me, “We find Caliban we find the others.”

“I thought Caliban hunted mutants down for-“

Hannah shook her head. “Not anymore. It’s a new world. And Sun is never wrong. We need him. Then we kill that rat.”

“Okay,” and I shook her hand, having nothing better to go on than a woman little older than me who might lead me to my sister. Who might be lying. “Now can I have the gun back?’

She shook her head, “Not until I teach you to shoot.”

“I can shoot.” 

She rolled her eyes, “No. Never carry a gun unless you are prepared to use it.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” I don’t want to hurt anyone else.

It was something Donnie would have said. 

She led the way, clearly familiar with the place. Pausing only to grab a worn sweater from a drawer not speaking another word. 

The silence was oppressive. 

There was so many questions I wanted to ask her. What happen? How many others were still out there? Where we were headed?

But the questions kept dying at my lips. 

I had never really felt like a traitor. But I was one. I had sold so many of y own kind in exchange for one. 

And what did that make me?

What would Hannah say if she knew? 

 _Breathe._  

Hannah set a grueling pace. We ate whatever we could find at gas stops. Avoided anything other than buses, buying the tickets at night straight from the driver to avoid any paper trail. 

“Somewhere in Maine.” Was all she said, a single headphone in, when I finally asked her where we were going. 

I had only ever hear stories about Caliban, the mutant who knew where all the mutants were. If it was worth knowing, he knew it. And worse, he worked for the bad guys. The men who would-

 I didn’t want to think about any of it. It always led back to him. 

Hannah passed me a sweater without promo when the air turned frigid the further north we got. The trees were stripped of leaves, and my jacket did little against the wind that rocked the bus. 

“How did you get away from them,” she asked, legs tucked under her. Her gaze was always tracking the people around us. 

I lied. “I was scared when people kept disappearing. So I disappeared too. Kept a net feeling out for any threat and kept moving.”

“Sun knew we were being hunted first. But they surprised us in Tallahassee. Sun knew,” her face scrunched up at the memory, voice cracking, “She knew what needed to be done. She sent us to warn the Professor. But we got split up and then the Westchester accident happened. And now it doesn’t really matter does it." "None of it matters now.”

My throat closed with the weight of guilt even as I knew there was nothing I could have done. I hadn’t even been there. But I knew who had been there. And I still felt my heart flutter at the thought of him.

“Your sister escaped. Maybe-“ It was a daring thing to hope in these times.

I shook my head. “They’re all dead.” Gratefully she didn’t ask me how I knew, but accepted the fact, offering my an earbud, before going back to tracing the other people in the bus. 

"None of it matters now," she stated, looking the most worn she had since we'd met. 

 I kept shifting with every road sign that passed, legs numb from lack of use. My thoughts swallowed up by the landscape of trees and rain, unable to sleep or think. 

There was nothing more than the now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will be some familiar faces in the next few chapters. times skips might be closer to years than months by now. but if you want i can flesh out the time line (its in my notes) enjoy.


	14. Racing Shadows in the Moonlight.

Caliban was a shadow of what he had been. Hunched in and hallowed cheekbones betrayed what a bad shape he was in. “I don’t know where the Professor is and frankly I don’t want to know.”

Hannah had already forced her way into the dilapidated house. “They’ll come here.”

“You are very mistaken.”

I watched from the doorway as they argued. Mostly it was Caliban trying to stop Hannah, but she had already claimed a spot near the back door.

“Please leave. I don’t want any trouble.”

“You’re a mutant. Too late for that,” Hannah said, going threw the fridge, throwing away all the rotten food. 

I slid down, resting on the worn floorboards that wouldn't have been out of place in a haunted house. I could feel more people around, but they were far enough away,they had to be the people in other houses. 

“I’m done with all this. I just want to die in peace.”

“Coward,” Hannah spat. 

“Stop it. I-“

“Fucking coward,” Hannah spat, slamming the fridge closed and leaving through the back. 

She’d come back. It was all we had. 

“We should die with our kind,” I stated, not bothering to look up. I couldn’t meet his gaze. And I wasn’t sure it was him I was talking to. 

Caliban seemed resigned to the fact that we were there to stay and went back to trying to clean up. It was something to do for a man who couldn’t step outside during the day, when the sun was out. Not that it was. 

Rain seemed to be the only constant right now.

—

The days dragged on. And on. And on. 

Hannah would leave in the morning, and spend her time outside, carefully working through exercise routines. 

We ate in silence. We cleaned in silence. 

The few times Caliban tried to make small talk, Hannah would glare at him until he stopped. 

I kept busy. I practiced using my mutation, trying to get a feel for what people were feeling instead of just noticing them. Strangers were the hardest. They were the furthest away, and I was bad at reading strangers to begin with. 

I read my way through the books left in the house, mostly bodice rippers; almost the entire collection of Highlander. 

I used an old botany book to attempt to garden. It was Caliban’s sad garden. There were few weeds, but things just kept dying. 

“It’s not a good climate for growing most plants,” Caliban stated, watching me attempt to coax a tomato plant back to life. “But the roots do alright. We’ll never need potatoes at least.”

“So long as no potato blight happens,” I said, yanking the gardening gloves off. 

Hannah was asleep. The moon was waning, and another mutant had just stepped into my detection zone. 

“Someone’s coming.”

“I smell it too. It’s defiantly one of Xavier’s, not sure whom though,” Caliban stated, as we hurried inside. 

I didn’t bother to wake Hannah. She had the uncanny ability to wake up on her own as soon as anything happened. 

We waited. Caliban sipping his tea, and I by the window. I didn’t bother with a weapon. I wasn’t very good at fighting, and if it was one of the x men we’d be fine. 

Or so I kept telling myself. 

“Logan,” Caliban uttered, as someone parked outside. “It’s Logan.” He seemed to go even paler.

Hannah had awoken, gun in hand, aimed at the door. 

He didn’t bother knocking, “Who the fuck are all of you?”

Logan didn’t look a thing like he had in all the pamphlets and pictures on the school’s wall. He little resembled the man that had often been on the news along with Beast and Storm and the rest of the x men. 

I had been expecting the wolverine. Nearly seven feet of muscle topped with admantium claws. What I got instead was a worn out man, beard sprinkled with gray, and a pronounced limp. Truly the end of an era if even the best of us was left a shell of his former self.

“Yes,” Hannah spoke, not bothering to explain anything as usual. “We’ll help you.” 

“I haven’t even-Fuck it.” Logan looked at Caliban. Then at each one of us, before, “All right then, Let’s go.”

“Where’s the Professor?” Hannah grabbed her bag while Logan proceeded to help himself to our food. 

“With a friend,”Logan responded between bites. 

“My sister, Philippa, is she with you,” I asked, throwing my jacket over my sweater. 

He studied me quietly, looking away. “We don’t have time for this shit. I need to get back.”

“Right,” Hannah said, aiming for Caliban.

“No,” Logan shouted, “The Professor sent for him. Not You.”

“He killed my mother,” Hannah snarled, “He deserves to die after everything he’s done.”

Logan sighed, “None of that matters now. We’re all we have. Even if all we have are a few broken men. Now drop the fucking gun!”

Hannah tossed the gun, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

I hugged her, stroking her hair, “It’s okay,” I whispered. It didn’t matter that it was a lie. She needed to hear that. I needed to hear that. 

Caliban grabbed his few belongings before we piled into Logan’s car, nicer than I would have expected. And drove off into the night.

—

The car stopping woke me up. We had travelled far in the night, and Caliban had covered himself in multiple blankets. With the heat, it must have sucked. 

“Where are we,” I asked. 

“West Virgina.” Logan sighed, looking reluctant to deal with whatever was here.

“Why are we stopping,” Hannah asked.

“Because we’re here.” He got out of the car, looking closer to a man facing his own execution.

But I already knew that. I felt my sister. She was more faded then when I’d last seen her. _Something’s wrong. Something is very wrong._

“Pippa,” I yelled, running out. “Pippa, it’s Tilly.” I ran into the building, guided by instinct. “Pippa!”

“Tilly,” she yelled, voice cracking before going into a coughing fit. “You came after all.” She was sitting in a chair, swallowed by the blanket she had wrapped herself in. 

Pippa’s skin was a waxy yellow and I knew why and I swallowed. 

She was dying. 

I knelt down by her chair, “Of course I’ve come after you. It just took some time to get away, but I’m here now.” After everything, she was still going to die. 

She smiled, grasping for my hand, “I’m sorry I’m so cold. I just can’t seem to get warm.”

My eyes stung as I blinked away tears. 

“Don’t look at me like that. I know I’m dying. But I’m dying a free woman. Not everyone can say that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You freed me. You can’t know how much that means to me.” Pippa looked over to here right, “This is the Professor. And you’ve met Logan and Hannah, the bitch.”

“How has he-“

“He’s been fine Logan,” Pippa responded, tone whip fast as ever. “Stop worrying. I’m the one that’s dying.”

“And the others?”

“Oh, they’ve gone on, left a note for you though Hannah. I bet it's to where to meet up with them.”

Hannah nodded, ready to go on and find her friends, and then they gave us some privacy. What little there was in the place.

“Now I don’t suppose you killed the bastard?”

She didn’t give me time to respond, meeting my gaze, “Oh you idiot. You didn’t.”

“I-“

“Don’t Tilly,” she uttered. “My idiot sister. Of course you would.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m here now aren’t I.”

“I suppose you are,” she sighed. 

—

We buried her on a Tuesday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so donald pierce will make his reappearance in the next chapter or two. the first twelve chapters take place over two years or so. Pippa's mutation was never mentioned or used but she could manipulate and generate electricity.


	15. Sounds like Penance.

_**2029** _

 

I was supposed to meet up with them.

After years of avoiding the miserable excuse for an existence Logan and Charles lived, Logan had called me asking for help. He claimed to have a young mutant, the first in years. They were heading to a safe haven. A place where we could finally stop hiding. 

But by the time I got there, Caliban was dead. And Logan was nowhere to be found. I could only hope that Charles and Logan were safe for the moment. 

Transigen was crawling all over the place. 

I turned to leave, ready to go after Logan and Charles and the new mutant. Then we could go to safety in the north. _If there even was any, my treacherous heart thought._

The whole world went still as I sensed him. Of course he’d be here. I was prepared for that, but the reality was different. Even now, my heart fluttered. 

I couldn’t stay here. They would catch me and kill me. But it was to late, I had look back and now I had to-I sighed. 

The Transigen workers had already carted off the bodies, so against my better judgement, I followed them. It was all to easy to fall into step, nick a keycard, and pretend I belonged there. No one asked me any questions. 

The ride back was short, having taken over a distribution building as a sort of headquarters. There were more bodies. I tried not to stare. I slipped away, hands sweaty with needless anxiety. It was all about waiting. 

I just had to wait for them to leave to track Logan. Then. . .then what? I closed my eyes. _God, what was I doing?_

This was so stupid. I knew he was alive. I’d have felt it if he died. But I couldn’t make myself leave. 

And sooner, rather than later, they did roll out. It just took way longer than I had anticipated. They took all day, and I had gone stiff from the constant anxiety. But as the sun set, the man who must have been in charge took most of the guards and left. But not him. 

I could tell he must have been badly injured. I could sense the pain through the haze of painkillers. 

He deserves it I thought. But I didn’t mean it. Not really.

It was all too easy to pretend to be a nurse. No one ever looked twice at a nurse. Then it was a matter of heading over. I swallowed. I had come this far, I might as well-I stepped into the room, air thick with the bland stench of sterilizer. 

I still wasn’t sure what I wanted. What was the point of coming here? 

Though the years had passed and changed us both, I would recognize him anywhere. Donald Pierce lay asleep from the painkillers; a half healed cut on his eyebrow and his upper arm covered with gauze. His right hand had been amputated. 

Okay, I had seen him. Time to leave. 

But I couldn’t. Something stopped me, and in that second of hesitation-

“Nancy,” he whispered, eyes barely open. “Is it really you baby?” Only Donald could smirk through all the pain killers and unexpected intrusion. 

I remained silent. Hoping he’d go back under and then we could both pretend this had never happened. But when had the world ever worked out for me. 

He shifted onto his side, eyes on me, “Nancy what are you doing here?”

I opened my mouth to answer him, but no words came out. I shrugged, smiling bitterly. 

Neither of us could look away. 

“I was looking for Logan and Charles,” I finally said. “But they’re probably dead now.” _Just like everyone else._  

He nodded, “Dr. Rice wants them all dead. Wolverine just isn’t what he used to be. It’s actually pretty damn sad.”

“Don’t,” I snapped. We were back to square one. Always dancing around everything. Well not this time.

He reached out, forgetting that he was missing his hand. I chose to ignore it. Donald sat up, this time reaching for a case on the counter. 

“You have to leave. I don’t want to hurt you.” He didn’t look up at me. 

But I will was left unspoken. 

I walked over to him, watching him work, reattaching his cybernetic limb with a carelessness that made me flinch. I ran my hand through his hair, cupping his cheek. I was tired. 

Donald looked up, lips lacking his usual smirk for once. 

He loosely encircled my waist with his arms, as I embraced him, leaning down, placing a kiss against him temple.

“I thought of you,” I admitted. It was something I had never been able to admit to myself. But I had. All those times I was lonely and tired and sick of passing through the world like a ghost. 

He looked up at me with these baby blue eyes, making me weak at the knees. Even after all this time, I still felt for him like I had never felt for anyone else.

“Oh baby, you shouldn’t have,” Donald whispered, trying for smugness. 

I smiled, despite myself. Somethings never changed.

“They’re all dead. None of it matters now,” I told him. Come with me, I almost asked. But it wasn’t right. 

“Come with me,” I asked anyways. “None of it matters now. But we’re still alive.” 

“A mutant and a mutant killer. What a pair we’d make,” he said, snorting. He pulled away, rolling through motions with his prosthetic. “You should go.” I had forgotten just how stubborn and stupid he could be about things. 

“Don’t do this,” I snapped. “Don’t be an asshole just because you can’t get your head out of your ass for a second. You don’t get to do this now.” Ten years ago I would have cried, but now I was only tired and angry. I was angry at losing everyone I cared about. I was tired of being alone. 

Donald stared down, gaze glued to the ground. 

I sighed, pulling away, ready to leave. This time, my heart didn’t feel weighed down with unknowns. This time I was fine, turning away, and saying goodbye.  

“I thought of you too. Nancy.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time skip of like eight years. unavoidable. alters cannon slightly. also: look at me posting at a reasonable hour instead of like four in the morning. breaks really mess up my ability to sleep. thoughts?


	16. Tender And Merciful.

****We didn’t even have to sneak out.

I stayed silent, letting Donald do all the talking. It too easy. Everything makes me jumpy and nervous and I still can’t believe they had let us go, just like that. They believed him. They bought everything he told them because they didn’t stop us.

_Because he's important. Because he's one of the people in charge._

It didn't really matter why so long as no one followed us. 

No one did.

Still, I keep glancing in the mirror as I drive, expecting the worst at any moment. I kept glancing over at Donald, who would periodically smirk at me, sure that at any moment I would wake up in some rundown motel in the middle of nowhere. 

He was injured, drowsy from medication, and still he wouldn’t let me drive. 

Transigen has gone north, following Logan. 

We went west, trying to put as much distance between us as possible.

They shouldn’t suspect anything. I had been dead for years. I had never given myself the luxury of imagining this, a time where we would be together, and now that we were, I wasn’t sure where to go from there. 

The pain started bothering him around hour three. Donald kept trying to shake it off, even as his knuckles turned white around the steering wheel. But taking the painkillers meant not being able to drive. 

“Just take the pills and let me drive,” I repeated, my hand on his arm, unsure what was too much. “You can’t go on forever. You need to rest.”

“I’m fine baby,” he said, rolling his shoulders back, “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m not going to die in a car crash because you won’t let me drive.”

“I said I got it.”

I sighed, trying to stay calm, “It’s not just you anymore. Let me handle this. Let me drive.” I kept the annoyance out of my voice, knowing git would just make him dig his heels in further. 

“Alright. Alright,” Donald said, pulling over, “Whatever makes you feel better sweetheart.” 

He downed some pills with the last of a bottle of water, and reluctantly let me take the driver’s seat. It’s not like we had  heading other than away. Away from all the shit behind us.

The further we got, the calmer I felt. 

Without anything to focus on, Donald went on an irritating spree of commentary while I focused on the road, praying for sleep to take him. It was hard to concentrate when he kept making remarks about my shitty driving every five minutes. 

I resisted swerving, or suddenly braking. The road was empty except for a few automated trailers, but even then it felt too dangerous. I couldn’t break the law. I was the lame driver everyone else passed on the street for sticking to the speed limit. 

\---

It was easy to see why they were called the great plains. The road stretched on ceaselessly. Flat land further than the eye could see. 

We stopped for gas. 

I doused my face with water glad to finally be rid of the sweat and grim of the last thirty-two hours. It only reality were so easy to clean-to fix. 

It was insane. I was supposed to be on my way to Logan, to Charles, to the new mutant. And yet, here I was. Off with a known asshole and all around terrible person like this was the ending to an epic romance. 

_Didn’t I deserve to be happy though?_

He also happened to be my asshole. People could learn and grow and even back then he had let both my sister and I go. He could just as easily have killed us. And that had to mean something. 

It was enough to make him come this far. 

_And now what?_

Filling the thought away for later, I pulled my hair back and cracked my stiff joints before heading back. 

Donald had filled the truck with gas, and gotten an assortment of chips, shitty bread, and coffee. 

“You remembered,” I said, taking a large drink from the cup he handed me. I hated coffee. It was too bitter for me. But I could down it choked with chocolate and cream. 

“Of course I did baby. Can barely call it coffee,” he muttered. Donald had taken back the driver seat. “No where to? Vegas. Phoenix. Seattle.”

I rolled the window up, angry at myself for not bringing a jacket. I was too tired to think things through. My head kept pounding, eyes threatening to close eye as I looked at Donald. 

“I’ve never been to Vegas. Or Seattle.”

“That’s not an answer,” Donald said with his ear present shit eating grin, shaking his finger, “You’ve got to choose baby. Or we can sit here all day.”

Leaning back against the seat, I tucked my legs under me, “Somewhere green, but sunny.” I wanted to feel the sun on my skin, surrounded by something other than people.

“Now that is an answer. None of that indecisive bullshit.”

“Fuck off.” It came out softer than intended. Too tired to care. 

He looked better rested, if only slightly so. I was surprised to note his hairline showed the first signs of receding. Wrinkles around his eyes that hadn’t been there before when he grinned. 

“Go to sleep baby,” he told me, “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

Donald took off his jacket, draping it over me, running his thumb over my cheek. Quiet for once. A soft smile on his lips replaced his usual smirk, while he watched me.

I could do nothing more than look back at him through half closed eyes that threatened sleep, wanting to reach out to him.

But I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. All the coffee in the world couldn’t have kept me awake for longer. My body had been pushed into exhaustion, worn down until it forced me to rest. Even when all I wanted was to look at him, make sure this wasn't all just some dream. A fantasy run wild.

I closed my eyes.

\---

I dreamt of Charles, always speaking in nonsense only he understood. Always the broken man that I had meet him as, his moments of clarity failing with the progression of time. 

In my dream he made utter sense, spinning a tale of other mutants of his era. Friends to enemies to friends once more. Enemies that were more friends than truly enemies. Of his sister. Of one shining moment everything was okay.

_The world has moved on without us._

_It is not your burden to shoulder._

_You have done enough._

_You are enough._

It was no longer Charles. But my sister. Not as I remembered her. She was filled in, looking more like me. She smiled, kissing my forehead, pulling away and I looked into the face of my mother.

_You are enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for not posting earlier but bloody uni. one day back and already i have two exams and so many assignments. ugh. anyways. the story went diverged from cannon last chapter. also u can find me on my tumblr if u wanna talk at hendrixsalison.tumblr. com


	17. People have done this before,

“I thought the desert was supposed to be hot,” I said, sun barely keeping me warm as the wind swept my hair up despite my best efforts. Donald’s jacket helped. 

It smelled like him, sharp and comforting. 

“Depends on the desert,” Donald said, head tilted skywards, “Depends on the time of year. Summer is a bitch.” He stretched his back. 

It was always nice to get out of the car. My legs were always unsteady from disuse; from sitting for to long. 

I hugged my arms around myself, staring at the horizon. It was beautiful.

Cacti and succulents stretching out into the distance. I could sense the distinct restlessness that animals gave off, always quick and short when they all blended together. We could have been the only people in the world. It was easy to close my eyes and take the crisp air in. 

Out here there was no one else but us. 

“This wasn’t always desert. It’s just expanded because of the drought,” Donald said. “Fucking idiots.”

“It’s beautiful,” I told him, “in a stark way.”

Donald looked over at me, eyebrow raised, “I hate the god damn desert.” And moved to get back into the car. 

Of course he hated it. He had fought in the bush wars. Pointless then, pointless now. 

I let out a sigh, stopping him from getting in, tentatively placing my hand on the side of his face. He didn’t look at me. His gaze trained on the ground, over my shoulder.

Words always failed me.

I could never quite fit what I felt into them. I could never quite get what I thought into words without them coming out wrong. 

And I just wanted to get it right for once. 

I drew his cybernetic hand to me, bringing the cold metal up to my lips and gently kissing it. The motion drew Donnie’s attention. He put up no resistance, so I continued, bringing his metal hand to rest on my cheek. 

“I’ve done a lot of shit. And I didn’t feel bad doing any of it,” he told me. “Hell, I enjoyed it. And I would do it again.” He paused to watch me, gripping my cheek just hard enough to be felt, keeping me from looking away. “Experimented on little mutant spawn. Like animals. Or things. And I didn’t care. They’re not really people.” 

Our eyes meet. “Do you still want me Nancy?" His voice cracked with raw intensity, even as his face remained stoic. " _Do you still want me?_ " 

"Yes," I responded. It wasn't enough to express the enormity of my longing and the tenderness which I felt for him. But it was a start. 

Donnie ran his thumb over my cheek, “I’m not a good person. I’ve hurt you. Even when I didn't want to. I didn't stop. I just made it hurt more.”

I snorted, “You’re not the only one who’s fucked up. And I know you’ve done terrible things. And they can’t just be written off. But you don’t have to be that-

do that anymore.” I motioned with my hands, trying to grasp what I meant and then force it into words. "We can choose to try and be the people who do the right thing. The people we want to be." _The people who make this work._

“I want you, but you have to want all of me. Even the parts that you hate. All or nothing," I told him, voice barely containing the yearning I felt for him. "And I’ll take you even with all the shit you’ve done.”

“That’s the only way this works.” I looked over at him, waiting. 

Donnie responds with a slight nod as he brings his lips to mine, roughly kissing me with the urgency of a man who might wake up at any moment. 

I kissed him back just as hard. And even then it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t get enough of him, his scruff scratching at my skin, body warm against mine. 

He rested his forehead against mine, as we broke for air. 

“Your gold ring is so dumb,” I whispered, stupid smile on my lips. Happy to be here, in the middle of nowhere with him. I’d be happy anywhere as long as he was there. 

“No it fucking ain’t,” he muttered, “it goes with the tattoo and the chain. It works baby.”

I rolled my eyes, “Keep telling yourself that.” Hands wrapped around his neck, holding him against me. 

I placed kisses along his jaw, running my hands through his hair, even as he led me back, laughing as we struggled to get into the car without losing hold of one another. His caresses light against my skin. 

Donnie gripped my hips hard enough to leave bruises as I undid the fastening of his jeans. He placed kisses along my neck, nipping at the skin. He made quick work of my jeans, helping me shimmy out of them. 

“Fuck baby, I haven’t done it in a car since I was a teenager.”

“I bet you were a terror as a teenager,” I utter, feeling how hard he was against my hand. “Probably tipped lots of cows in Texas.”

His laugh turned into a loud moan as I slid onto him. 

_“Donnie. Fuck.”_ I moaned into the base of his throat, rolling my hips against his. I forced myself to go slow, even as Donnie kissed me furiously, digging his fingers into my hips, muttering sweet things interspersed with curses. 

My vision swam as I noted his aura, against mine, bright enough to blind. 

I ran my hands under his shirt, wanting more contact, more of him. I wanted to fold myself into him and never let go. 

His abs were hard under my hand, tense with anticipation and want. My toes curled up as he thrusted up to meet my his, grinding against me, holding me in place. Responding, I arched my back, taking him in further, my breath hitching with pleasure. 

I nipped the skin at the base of his throat. _Mine._  

Donnie’s eyes closed, mouth slightly open, moaning loudly. “Baby,” he groaned. “Fuck baby.”

I felt it as his whole body tensed, stilling against mine. I slid against him, painstakingly slow, feeling the heat pooled tight burst with pleasure. With lust and longing and love all intertwined. And there was only Donnie and me. 

“Fuck. I love you Nancy. I love you so fucking much,” he groaned, skin flushed red.

We came against each other, my body collapsing on top of his, face buried in the crook of his neck. I was lost in him; the smell and warmth of Donnie there, with me, against me, in me. All wrapped up with me. 

 

Donnie rubbed circles into the small of my back, metal warm. 

“I love you so much you fucking asshole,” I whispered against his throat once I could form words again. Once I could think in more than the purity of the auras around me. World having gone wild with color, exposed in an unfathomable way. 

Coming back down was like going blind. 

Our eyes met and we grinned at each other. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its like two in the morning but i havent slept so its april 5th idc what the calendar says. the more i write the more i find that ive graduated from the ernest hemingway style of writing aka minimalism. i think theres like two more chapters left, maybe one. idk idk. thoughts? too ooc? i mean can u imagine people talking about their feelings? sound fake right.


	18. but not us.

The waves crashing against rocks was audible through the trees. After days of driving through desert and dry plains, the dense trees of Northern California looked like another world.

For a change, I woke up before the sun had fully risen, when the world was still soaked in dew and mist. There was a fairy tale-esque quality to it all. An intimacy inherent to the place.

Out here, in a cabin, surrounded by nothing but trees and ocean, it was easy to forget; to live in our own little world. 

I woke up, Donnie’s arms around me, and felt okay for the first time in years. Sometimes he’d hold me so tightly it hurt. Other times I would wake up to him trailing his hand down my arm, barely brushing my skin. 

There were times when neither of us could sleep; when all I could dream about was the past and dead. When the tears ran down my cheeks and I couldn’t face my own mind. 

Mostly we reacquainted ourselves with each other. 

“My mother was so embarrassed by her accent, she never taught me spanish. Or any of the other languages she knew,” I told him, feet buried in the damp sand. “Tilly picked it up anyways. She was the smart one and the athletic one and the popular one.” 

He didn’t ask me about her, hand over his eyes. Donnie had given me his sunglasses to use. They were terrible and I had no clue how he pulled them off. 

“But my brother was my mom’s favorite. Always nose in a book, and then busy in theater. Finally, someone she could talk old dead white guys with.”

“I haven’t talked to them in years,” my voice cracked. It was easier not to miss them when I wasn’t thinking about them. But it was better this way. Safer.

They thought I was dead anyway. After all this time, they must. 

“My mother died from liver failure. Either because of the drugs or alcohol. Never had money for anything but that at least,” Donnie told me, his tone even. “Can you believe that! Such a redneck cliche ain’t it.” 

If it bothered him, it didn’t show. 

“All the factories had closed. There’s no money in farming, so it was the military for me.” He grinned, looking over at me, “They tell you that the military will tach you marketable skills. What they don’t tell you is there’s nothing more valuable then knowing how to kill people.”

“My mother couldn’t deal with her daughter being a mutant. So they sent Tilly away. So they wouldn’t have to deal with it. So she wouldn’t have to look at her everyday. Because mutants are godless abominations,” I spat. “And when I-

“I never told my parents.” It wasn’t hard to hide. I wasn’t Beast. I didn’t lose control like Tilly. 

“There’s nothing wrong with,” he trailed off, words hollow in his mouth. 

“Obviously not.” I rolled my eyes at him, getting up, doing my best to wipe the sand off my clothes. 

The air was colder by the water, especially as the sun went down. I stretched out my legs, before heading back to the cabin. 

Donnie didn’t come in till it was truly night, the only light being from the moon in the sky. 

He slipped under the covers besides my, pulling me against his chest. Silent for once. 

“We’re going to need to leave soon. We can’t stay here forever.” Donnie rested his face in the crook of my neck, mouth grazing my skin as he spoke. “Not like this, Nancy. Not like this.” 

He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m going to take you someplace we don’t have to look over our shoulder. We can start over. You can go to school. Or whatever you want. Anything you want baby," his voice growing sharper with urgency, with the intensity borne of love.  

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered against my skin, “Just let me take care of you.” Donnie, pressed his lips against my skin.

Where words failed, actions didn't.

I stilled, staring into the cast shadows. It would be so easy to leave. To run away and never look back. To wash myself of everything that had happened. But I couldn’t leave not knowing what had happened. 

“Charles is dead isn’t he,” I stated, hoping that I was wrong. 

His silence told me everything I needed to know.

“He was dangerous. All that power in a sick mind,” Donnie finally admitted, a excuse and confession all in one. 

“He was sick! He needed help, not a bullet in his brain or however it happened,” I choked out, hands bunching up the blanket. 

“And Logan? And the girl?” 

I calmed myself, tone even as I added, “I want to start over with you. Somewhere I’m not haunted by the dead. But first I need to know.” 

Donnie placed a kiss against the crook of my neck, only just touching my skin. “Alright baby.” He paused, getting out of bed. “I’ll find out what happened. And then we’re gone.”

“And then we’re gone,” I echoed. It was such a strange idea. After everything that had happened, all the fear and death, I might be able to rest. I might be able to do more than survive. 

“Stay,” I asked him, “come here and hold me. We can worry about all that in the morning. Just-just give me this.”

He nodded, letting me pull him to me, letting me curl up into his chest. I traced his tattoo with my fingertips, drinking in the sight of him there besides me. 

The shadows under his eyes were gone. Donnie’s expression open in a way that he never let himself get in the day. 

Though ten years had passed, nothing I felt for him had changed. The whole world could and had gone to hell around me, but that would never change. I was tethered to Donald Pierce. He had my heart and bones. He was in me like a pulse. 

 

 

_Everything would be all right._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you want an epilogue in which i write basically their new start? thoughts? do u guys think i developed nancy as a character enough? thats like always a worry.


	19. A Soft Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit guys this is longer than the first harry potter book. i feel so accomplished. this will be short and sweet. hope you guys feel satisfied.

A woman not named Nancy Matilda ran in the door, apologies on her lips. She was soaked, having forgotten her umbrella, not having bothered with a waterproof jacket. 

“Baby, you’re gonna catch your death out there,” a man not named Donald Pierce told her, watching as she tugged her wool sweater off. 

“Hardly,” the woman replied, “besides, I was inside most of the day. Apparently Mrs. Dinh prefers Rennie not to go out in the rain.” The woman had fallen into dog sitting after lots of aimless classes; everything from yoga and positive psychology to a tragic trigonometry class. 

Her hair had streaked with gray since then. 

“How’s Issac?”

“Begged to go play next door,” the man said, hugged the woman against his chest. 

She leaned into his embrace. 

“Issac takes after you,” the man said, breaking the silence. 

The boy had been an accident. The man being unable to think of himself as a father after the things he had done in another life. The woman simply hand’t given it thought. Neither had been particularly careful. 

“Oh come on now,” the woman responded, settling down on the sofa, “He has your eyes and the same shit eating grin. He even drinks tea the way you do.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she watched the man. His features were carefully controlled, but years together had taught her how to read him like a book, even without the aid of her mutation. 

In a serious tone he responded, “He told me to give him more snacks."

"Okay," she replies, confusion coloring her features.

"He told me to give him more snacks and I couldn’t say no.”

Oh, the woman thinks. 

The possibility had crossed her mind, but she hadn’t wanted to think what that would mean. It hard to decide if she’s scared or happy. The jolt of nervousness running down her spine. 

No one was hunting them now she had to remind herself.

Mutants were slowly but surely coming back. 

But this new generation of mutants was fragile. Coming back into being after years of there being none. They were young and few and only just getting back on their feet. And a mother worries. 

“We’ll get through this together,” she finally replies. “We always do.”

The man met her gaze, and nodded, his smile rueful. 

She lifted her hand to trace the tattoo on his neck that was no longer there. Her hands remembering another time.

 

And she returned his smile. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donald and Nancy take on new identities. They leave it all behind. In some other place Laura and co fight to bring down Transigen. They reveal why mutants had gone away, gene suppressed. There's a shit storm. But Nancy and Donald's fight is over. It's time for a new gen. 
> 
> thoughts?


End file.
